Thursday's Child
by Tessa de Rico
Summary: When Ginny asks Hermione to become her for a few days, it seems like nothing will go right. But what happens when everything turns out unexpectedly?
1. Persuasion

**Persuasion**

Chapter One

"Have you lost your mind?"

"It's a great idea."

"It's a dumb idea. We've only did that once before and that was in third year!"

"And we got away with it."

Hermione Granger eyed her friend in exasperation. Ginny Weasley was sitting in the center of her bed, while Hermione stood in front of the dressing table. She turned her back on Ginny and began taking the hairpins from the bun on the back of her head. A mane of dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders was shaken free.

"Whenever people switch places in movies, something terrible always happens."

"That's the movies; this is real life."

"Doesn't art imitate life?"

Ginny sighed in vexation. "Come on, Hermione. Will you or won't you?"

"I won't. I can't believe you're serious about having this operation in the first place," she said, pulling a hairbrush through her hair.

"I don't want to go through the rest of my life flat-chested."

"You aren't flat-chested! If anything, my chest is flatter than yours," Hermione argued, assessing their figures in the mirror.

Ginny chose to ignore the second part of her sentence. "I'm not overly endowed either."

"Who wants to be? They'll sag in a few years, then you'll wish you didn't have them." Laying the brush on the dressing table, she turned to Ginny. "Please reconsider, Ginny. You don't have to do this."

Ginny laughed. "You're always so cautious and practical. Don't you ever have one frivolous thought? Just look at yourself now that you've let your hair down. You're gorgeous. Don't you want to be?"

"I'm not gorgeous. And no, I don't particularly want to be. Looks aren't important."

Ginny pressed a hand over her heart and addressed the ceiling. "I know," she said theatrically, "it's what a person in like on the inside that counts."

"Make fun of me all you want, but that's the way I feel. I'd much rather be considered intelligent than a knockout."

Ginny frowned in aggravation. Her best friend was hopeless. All Hermione cared about was her laboratory – her microscopes, specimens, potions, any old stuff that had a scientific lure to them. "Are you going to do me this favor or not?"

"No, I don't want any part of it. Why can't Blaise know beforehand?"

"Because I want it to be a surprise."

"He likes you the way you are. Why else would he be marrying you?"

"Do you know one man who wouldn't like his woman to have large breasts?" The moment the question left her lips, Ginny began shaking her head. "Forget it. I withdraw the question. You don't know any men."

"I know quite a few men," Hermione protested.

"And they're all brainy and weird!" Ginny shot back.

"They're scientists."

"As I said, brainy and weird," Ginny mumbled as she plucked at a loose thread on the bedspread. The sulking lasted only a few minutes before she lost her patience. "I want a breast enlargement. It's for my self-esteem. Blaise will go absolutely bananas when he sees the improvement. I'm asking my best friend to help me out a little and she's making a big deal out of it."

"You're hardly asking me to help you out 'a little'. You're asking me to pretend to be you while you sneak off and have the surgery."

"Only for a few days. Only until the bandages come off."

"Hermione shuddered. The whole idea repelled her, but it was Ginny's business. She only wished Ginny hadn't involved her in it. "What about your job?"

"I'm taking a week off. No problem there. You can go to work as usual. It's only in the evenings when you need to be with Blaise."

"What will you be doing, hiding in the backroom?"

"I'm staying in the clinic. It's expensive, but I'd rather stay there than at home."

Hermione pushed away from the dresser and began to pace back and forth. "Ginny, this is crazy. You and Blaise…well, doesn't he expect certain, uh, you know…"

"You mean bedroom privileges?" Hermione blushed. Ginny laughed. "I've covered you on that. I told him I had strained too much and had to lay off sleeping together for a couple of weeks."

"That's absolute rubbish!"

"As a biologist in genetics you know that, and as a woman I know that, but _Blaise_ doesn't know that. He griped like hell, but he accepted it. So you won't have to worry about him trying to get you into bed. And for crying our loud, it's only for three or four days!"

Hermione nervously twisted her hands. Ginny had always been able to do this to her, talk her into something common sense warned against. "Switching places was a one time amusing trick to play on our friends, but I have a premonition that something dreadful is going to happen."

"What, you're Trelawney now? Stop being a fatalist. Nothing's going to happen."

"And you want me to move into your condo?"

"That would remain the most convenient arrangement. Blaise could always find me, or rather _you_, there."

What remained unsaid, but understood, was that Hermione's absence from her own apartment would go unnoticed. She had no one calling for her in the evenings. "I'll have to wear your clothes," she said unenthusiastically.

"Which will be a vast improvement over your wardrobe." Ginny eyed Hermione's navy cotton skirt and tailored white blouse with undisguised disgust.

"I'll have to wear my contacts all the time and they give me a headache. I don't trust spells on my eyes."

"Better a headache than those owlish glasses you wear. And you can charm your headache away."

"And my hair –"

"Will you stop! Your hair looks terrific loose and natural instead of knotted into that old-maid's bun. And we can charm it perfect easily." Ginny hopped off the bed and confronted Hermione with both hands on her hips. "So will you or won't you? Please, Hermione. This is important to me."

Everything was important to Ginny. She lived from crisis to crisis. She didn't do anything by half-measures. She plunged right into every critical event, usually dragging her unwilling, less adventurous friend right behind her.

Hermione turned to the mirror and gazed at her image. Could she pass for Ginny? Ginny who never met a stranger, but a potential friend? Ginny who felt at home in any situation? Ginny with the bubbling personality and more charm in her little finger than Hermione possessed in her whole body?

Ginny walked over to stand beside her. Since Hermione was great at spells, they both knew she could transform herself to look identical to Ginny.

And it was only for a few days. And Ginny was her best friend, a friend that stuck through thick and thin with Hermione.

Hermione smiled wryly. "Do you realize that for the rest of your life, guys will keep staring at your boobs and also, that they might sag horribly one day?"

"Oh, Hermione! You'll do it?" Ginny gave Hermione an exuberant hug. "I knew I could count on you. Here's my engagement ring," she said, twisting it off her finger and putting it on Hermione's. "Don't you dare lose it. Now let me tell you about tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Blaise and 'I' are meeting his best friend for dinner. They grew up together, blood brothers and all that. He says I know him, but refuses to tell me who he is. And Blaise wants to show me off."

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione wailed.

**Disclaimer:** The characters nor the plot are mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Sandra Brown.

**Author's Note:** First story, but it doesn't even come originally but I really hope you readers will be satisfied. Please comment. Thank you.


	2. The First Attempt

**The First Attempt**

Chapter Two

"Wait till you meet her, Draco. She's terrific. Absolutely terrific. She's sweet and smart. Great figure. And her face! Heavens, her face. She's beautiful."

"She sounds it." Draco Malfoy gave his friend a teasing wink.

Blaise looked properly chagrined. "Am I talking about her too much?"

Draco clapped Blaise on the shoulder. "You're a man in love. You're supposed to talk about her. How long is this engagement going to last?"

Blaise had met Draco in the Leaky Cauldron, where they had caught up with each other over steaming mugs of coffee. Ever since the last war where Voldemort had been defeated, Draco had focused his life mainly on his career, traveling around the globe, which caused him to spend little time with his schoolmates.

"Not much longer, thank Merlin. First Friday of November. I want you to be my best man. Are you going to be around then or are you off again soon?"

"I'll stick around. I can't let my best friend get married without my support."

Blaise glanced at the man beside him. "You know, if it weren't for Ginny, I'd envy you. Sailing all over the world in that yacht of yours, a different woman in every port, adventure, no obligations to tie you down. Must be the life." He sighed.

Draco somberly studied the cloud-banked sunset through the window. "It's not as glamorous as you might think," he said reflectively.

"Hell, man, share a few torrid details with you ol' buddy. I don't even know what you do!"

Draco smiled slowly. "It's a secret."

"You make tubs of money, work independently, work when you want to, travel all over the world. You're a minister of something, right?

"That's classified, Blaise."

Blaise whistled through his teeth. "You must be linked to some secret society or something, right? No, never mind. I understand if it's classified. Just assure me of one thing."

"What's that?"

"That whatever you do is legal. No Dark Arts or Voldemort-ish or anything like that."

Draco laughed out loud. "I won't go to Azkaban for what I do, no."

"That doesn't exactly put me at ease. You might be too cagey to get caught."

"I work within the law, Blaise."

Blaise sighed longingly. "Yep. Every once in a while I really envy the way you live."

"Don't," Draco said quietly. "I really envy your happiness with Ginny. Has she really changed that much? No, scratch that. Everybody's changed since the war."

"Yeah, everybody's changed. You and me, included. But let's take this conversation to a happy note. Shall we meet Ginny now?"

Draco nodded, and together they apparated to the French restaurant which they were supposed to meet Ginny at. Just as they arrived, Blaise spotted Ginny turning the corner of the building where she had apparated. Striding towards her, he called out her name.

She looked up, took another step, then pitched forward and fell flat on her face.

Damn!

She caught herself with her hands. The impact was jarring and caused her lower teeth to slam hard against her uppers. Her palms had been scraped and were stinging like fire. At least three layers of epidermis had been left on the sidewalk. She had tried to break her fall on one knee and the steel grate had impressed itself into it. She'd have a bruise for a month.

Her hair was hanging on either side of her face like a red curtain. Her rear end was sticking up in the air and she was having a hard time focusing her eyes.

And if all her physical maladies weren't enough, she had made a spectacle of herself. She could all but hear passersby speculating on which controlled substance she was high on. Blaise and his friend were rushing toward her as she unsuccessfully tried to stand up.

Damn the high heels! She never wore them, but Ginny did. The strappy sandals were lethal. But what else was she supposed to wear with the filmy chiffon dress Ginny had told her to wear? Her loafers?

"Ginny, darling, are you hurt?"

She came up on the foot that still wore its shoe. The heel of her other sandal was trapped in the iron grid and her unshod foot dangled lifelessly a few inches above the sidewalk.

"No, no, I'm fine," she muttered, keeping her head down. Something was wrong, but she couldn't figure out what it was. The world didn't look right. She put her full weight down on her damaged knee. It couldn't support her yet, and she felt herself falling forward again.

"Ginny!" Blaise cried and reached for her.

But it was another pair of arms that went around her, breaking her fall and cradling her against a chest as broad and solid as a wall. She leaned against the sturdy support for a moment, cursing her sister's influence over her and her own culpability. Why wasn't she at home with a good novel?

"Darling, you're hurt," Blaise exclaimed.

"No. I'm all right. I'm just…"

She raised her head to the owner of the arms cradling her. This wasn't Blaise. Blaise had black hair. She got an impression of blonde hair. Light brown brows. An expensive silk coat and a semi-formal dress shirt. Everything was blurred. She blinked, trying to bring all the partial images together into one clear picture. She couldn't focus.

_Merlin! I've lost a contact!_

"Uh, my shoe." She wrested herself free of the strong arms and dropped to her knees once again, ostensibly groping for her shoe, but praying that by some miracle she'd locate the contact lens that must have popped out when she fell.

"Here's your purse, darling," Blaise said, thrusting Ginny's beaded handbag at her.

"I'll get her shoe." This voice was deep, much less rattled than Blaise's. It sounded familiar, but Hermione dismissed the thought. Poor Blaise, Hermione thought. He must be mortified be "Ginny's" uncharacteristic clumsiness. What a terrific first impression his fiancée had made on his best friend.

But she couldn't worry about that now. She had to worry about getting through the evening without being able to see.

She gasped as a warm hand closed around her ankle and worked her foot into the shoe that had stuck in the grate and caused her fall.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" He touched her calf solicitously.

"No. I'm just…" She stuttered around something to say. _No, I'm just not used to a man helping me put on my shoe._ Brilliant, Hermione. You're off to a great start. Better not to say anything.

He eased up to his full height again. It seemed to take a long time to get there. She shook back her hair, unaccustomed to its weight on her shoulders and around her face, and much less accustomed to a man's hand on her ankle and calf. She hoped the tight grimace she felt on her mouth looked something like a smile. "I feel like such a klutz."

"Well, you looked a little klutzy," Blaise said, and affectionately placed his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her temple. "Sure you're all right?"

"Of course," she said brightly, trying desperately to bring his bleary image into focus. "Is this your friend?"

She turned toward the blurred bulk in front of her and stuck out her hand. It bumped against his sleeve. "Draco Malfoy, meet Ginny Weasley, my fiancée," Blaise said.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Neither the characters nor the plot are mine. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Sandra Brown.

**Author's Note:** Please review more! I need to hear your comments! And a word to my two reviewers:

J.S. () – Thank you for being my first reviewer! And yes, do look out for my story.

Song Muse (Lauren) – And you're my second reviewer! I'm sorry for updating so late.

Thanks for encouraging me! x)


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